A Rose in Winter
by SophiaAnne
Summary: A sudden snowstorm. A missing father returned. A bushel of red roses on the doorstep. Bella Swan's holidays brought unexpected events. One year later she begins to learn what it all means. Written for the 2010 Twilight Gift Exchange.
1. Prologue & Part 1

_A/N: Written for the Winter 2010 Twilight Gift Exchange. Allusions and inspiration from the French fairy tale Beauty and the Beast, and the Grimm Brothers Rose Red and Snow White. Text quoted from The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandre Dumas, and A Little Budding Rose by Emily Bronte. No copyright infringement to Twilight or other referenced sources is intended._

_A/N: Since it's beta appreciation day, I want to say a very special thank you to the lovely SassenachWench for her help and assistance on this story, and to the fantastic folks at Project Team Beta for the excellent work they do. This story was immeasurably improved by their assistance._

_~*~_

_~Prologue~_

_Once upon a time, in a very small town, there lived a young girl. She was an ordinary girl, small and shy, but loved dearly by her father, a knight who daily rode off on his white steed to protect the town, and her beautiful mother, a storyteller who taught the girl and the other children of the town each day. _

_The girl lived with her parents in a small cottage at the edge of the forest, and though the woods were dark and deep, she played among them without fear, always knowing that her father and mother would keep her safe. _

_And then one day, the unthinkable happened. The girl's mother grew ill. Her strength was gone and she was confined to bed, as the girl's father frantically searched for a cure without success. But this was no dragon he could slay; the roses in her mother's cheeks grew paler with each passing day. The girl stopped playing in the forest, sitting instead by her mother's bedside, listening as her mother wove stories of magic, mystery, and a prince that one day would come for her daughter. The girl soaked up each word, her head nestled against her mother's warm body, until the day her mother grew cool and was taken away._

_The girl and her father lived on in the small cottage together, quieter and sadder, and the years passed. She spent her days lost in tales of far away places, and dreamed nightly of the stories her mother had spun, of magical things, the mysteries of the forest, and a prince with golden eyes and flaming hair. _

_But one day the girl was no longer a girl, but a young woman, and the waking world was no longer magical, the forest merely cold and dreary, and her prince never came. _

~*~

_Part 1_

~*~

Bella gave the dinner rapidly cooling on the table one last glance and reached for the telephone.

"Hello?" an anxious voice answered.

"Janine, is my dad there? He told me he wasn't scheduled for the late shift tonight."

"Honey, have you not been watching the news? A pair of those little Boy Scouts who are always going camping up at Bear Rock got themselves lost. Your daddy's out helping look for them."

"Oh, thanks, Janine, I didn't know. Have you heard from him?"

"He checked in about an hour ago. It'll be too dark soon for them to do much more though. I'll tell him you called."

"Thank you."

Bella hung up the phone, filled a plate, and walked into the living room. She switched on the television and settled herself on the couch. Sure enough, the scrolling feed across the bottom of the screen announced news of the lost Boy Scouts.

She watched the footage for a few minutes. A short clip of her father from earlier announcing that a search was underway was followed by teary-eyed shots of the parents, then a cut to the weather forecast of the storms rolling in.

"The radar indicates an unusually heavy storm, folks, with a possible accumulation of up to two feet of snow. Looks like we might be getting a really white Christmas this year."

Bella picked at her food, the limp spaghetti losing appeal. Christmas was only a few days away, and she should really decorate the tree tonight, cover the bare branches with some tinsel and shiny balls and try to make the place look festive.

Her father always said he didn't care about those things, but she knew he did. It reminded them both of her mother, who'd loved the holidays and had always made trimming the tree a big family event. He'd brought home the tree yesterday, dragging out the old stand and heaving the small pine into place, where it now stood, slightly forlorn in the corner.

Bella put her plate down, the noodles sitting like a lump in her stomach, and opened the first box of decorations stacked beside the bare branches. Her father might say it was no big deal, but this year, her last year here with him, it was. Next year she'd be at college, and though she would come home for the holidays, it wouldn't be the same. She wanted to do this for them.

She needed to add the lights first and untangling them always took so long. She flipped idly through the channels on the television, leaving it on a game show as she focused on the unruly strands that had writhed and twisted themselves into impossible knots while hiding in the attic. The beeping of a weather alert drew her attention back up to the screen as she finished the third strand. She listened to the mechanical voice read out the warnings.

"Winter Weather Advisory. Rapid accumulations expected. Extreme wind gusts. Travelers advised to stay off the roads."

She scrambled to her feet and went to the window, staring out into the darkness and listening as the wind howled. A peek out the door was met by a flurry of white that swirled around her feet. The storm had set in. She shut the door and returned to the television, a news alert breaking in to show pictures of the reunion of the Boy Scouts and their parents.

Good. Her father should be home soon. She turned up the volume just in time to hear the announcer intone her father's name.

"Chief Charles Swan was separated from the search party as the storm intensified and remains missing."

She dropped the remote and raced to the kitchen, misdialed the number twice with shaky fingers before she managed to connect.

"Janine? Where's my dad?"

A deeper voice responded. Her dad's senior deputy. "Bella, honey, we don't know, and this storm's way worse than they were calling for, caught us all off guard. It's so heavy, the boys can't get back out there. No visibility up in the Park right now. But we'll be out again as soon as we can come daylight, alright? Don't you worry, your dad's a smart one and he's been roaming those woods for years. He knows how to find cover, keep himself safe until we can get to him. Do you want me to try to get someone over to you?"

She declined and hung up the phone, sliding into a small lump on the floor to wait.

~*~

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright, the storm that folks would call the Christmas blizzard for years afterwards having finally spent its fury, leaving behind a heavy layer of white to cover the damage. Bella stirred from her place on the couch, throwing off the wool blanket someone had covered her with late the night before when she'd finally succumbed to exhaustion.

It had been three days since her father went missing. Three days of failed attempts by search parties to locate him, hampered by the storm that had continued to rage. Three days of anxious waiting, of her father's men and their families filling her home, the wives fussing and clucking over her, bringing food, and trying to force her to eat.

She could hear a shuffle in the kitchen, low voices, and knew that Deputy Peterson and his wife, Wanda, were awake. Newlyweds with no little ones, they'd insisted on staying with her on Christmas Eve, even after she'd persuaded the others who'd been hanging about, hovering with worry etched on their faces, to go home to their families. They were going to continue the search today, but now they were looking for a body. She'd heard them whispering about it last night. No one thought there was a chance her father had made it through the storm.

Her eyes were red and aching, the sandpaper grit of too little sleep and too many tears. A sparkle in the corner caught her eye, and she noticed the little pine, registering that it was now covered in lights and ornaments. Someone out of the many people who had crowded the house the last few days must have finished decorating it. She felt hollow as she stared at it and what it had been supposed to represent – Christmas with her dad. He was supposed to have been here, to wake her up wearing that ridiculous Santa hat he'd had for years, to drag her downstairs for presents and their special Christmas breakfast.

And now he was gone.

The tears threatened again and she scrubbed her hands over her face, trying to get herself under control as the reality of the last few days crashed into her. Hadn't losing her mother been enough? What would she do without her father?

There was a sharp rap on the door, a single knock that seemed to echo through the house. She clutched the blanket back around her, and staggered to the door, opening it to find only the blinding white of the snow before her.

Until she looked down. Lying curled and motionless on the doorstep, in his uniform and heavy coat, was her father. She dropped to her knees with a gasp, and watched the trail of the exhale of his breath condense in the cold air as she screamed for the Petersons.

~*~

Her father was going to be alright. They were keeping him for observation overnight, but the initial examination had shown no physical effects – no frostbite or dehydration. His only deficit seemed to be a loss of memory of what had happened over the last few days.

She'd wanted to stay, but her father and the others had insisted she go home to sleep. She clutched the bundle of his effects they'd given her at the hospital tightly as Wanda Peterson pulled into her driveway.

"Bella, are you sure you don't want one of us here with you again? You need to get some rest tonight. Don't want to worry your daddy by getting sick yourself, now do you?"

"I'll be fine. Thank you, Mrs. Peterson, for everything."

"Alright, then. Merry Christmas."

It was still Christmas? Bella mumbled the sentiment back as she opened the car door, then made her way carefully up the steps to the front porch. Fumbling with her keys until she got the lock open, she turned and waved, watching the car pull away with a honk.

The house was thankfully quiet, and dark except for the lights of the tree. No one had remembered to unplug it when they'd frantically rushed her father to the hospital this morning, but the warm glow was welcoming for the first time. She made her way over to the couch and collapsed, feeling the waves of exhaustion drag her into the depths of true sleep.

~*~

_He ran ahead of her, dodging nimbly between the trees, his deep laughter echoing back through the forest as they played their game. Catch me if you can. _

_She never could, but she chased him anyway._

_He called her name, and she caught a glimpse of a figure darting to her left. She pivoted, her own moves graceful as she bounded after him, feeling happiness bubble inside her. He was just ahead now, his bright hair drawing her like a moth to a flame. Her prince._

_She circled a tree, prepared to find him just the other side, and instead surveyed only the quiet forest. He'd evaded her again. _

"_Bella." One word, but so beautiful on his lips. She turned to find him at her side, hand extended, golden eyes glowing. She laid her palm in his, letting him draw her in, and tilted her face up to meet his lips as she closed her eyes. _

_He disappeared, as always, leaving her standing alone in the quiet forest as snow began to fall and billow around her._

Bella sat upright, her heart racing, shaking her head to clear it of the recurring dream she'd had for years. The fairytale prince in the forest her mother told her stories of so long ago, tales woven over those long days as her mother grew weaker, but never too much to open her arms to hold her. She knew now that such things didn't exist, but the dreams always made her happy, despite the ending. The prince always disappeared before she could have her first kiss.

She glanced at the clock over the mantle, the numbers showing that she had, in fact, slept through the night. She headed into the kitchen and called the hospital. The nurse on duty assured her that her father was fine, still sleeping, and that she should wait a few more hours before attempting to drive over to see him.

She busied herself with cleaning to pass the time, straightening the kitchen, then gathering the laundry she hadn't looked at in days and separating loads. She unhooked her father's name badge from the front of the uniform he'd been wearing when he disappeared that they'd given her at the hospital, and began her usual search of his pockets for sticks of gum, scraps of paper, and the usual odds and ends he often stuck there. Her fingers encountered something soft, and she carefully drew out a rosebud, limp and tattered. Even in its wilted state, the deep red tint of the petals was beautiful. She ran her finger over the smoothness. How had her father found a rose in the middle of that storm?

She sat it to the side to ask him about later.

_~*~_

Her father was released from the hospital the next day, though restricted from work through the beginning of the new year for a few final tests related to his memory loss. Bella tried not to fuss over him, but the memory of his cold skin beneath her hand as she'd touched his inert form on the doorstep lingered in her mind.

She spent the week looking through the college applications she'd been considering for months now, weighing the costs and distance of each with what she knew realistically her father could afford. The state university system had solid though not outstanding schools, and several campuses only a few hours away. Many of her classmates would go there as well, and she felt certain that her grades would gain her admittance. She began the process of filling out the applications, typing away at the various essays on topics like success and teamwork that held little interest for her.

Her father found her at her task on the new year's eve, seated at the kitchen table reviewing something she'd written for the school nearest them. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to her, flipping through the pile.

"Staying close to home, huh?" he asked.

She lifted a shoulder. "They're good schools. Mrs. Marrion thinks I'll get accepted, and probably some financial aid too."

Her dad took a sip of his coffee, then sat the cup down. "Bella, you know your mother and I started a college fund for you, but when she got sick-"

Bella touched his hand. "Dad, I know. And it's alright. I think maybe this is best for me; I'm not sure I'm ready to be so far away yet."

He nodded and looked away. "Are you going out with your friends tonight? That Stanley girl having her party? Is her mother going to be there?"

Jessica Stanley's mother had been letting her throw a New Year's Eve party since they were in seventh grade, although the party had proportionally decreased in adult supervision and increased in adult beverages as they'd grown older. Bella shook her head.

"She's having it, but . . . I think I just want to stay here tonight."

"Bella, you don't have to stay home because of me. I'm fine," he protested.

She bit her lip to try to keep in the tears that hovered just below the surface when she thought of those three long days he'd been gone. "I know I don't have to, Dad. I want to. I thought maybe we could play Scrabble and watch the countdown on television, like we did when I was little? Maybe have an apple juice toast at midnight?"

Her father smiled. "Sure, kiddo. Whatever you want."

~*~

Bella lifted her glass of apple juice high in the air as she chanted the countdown to midnight, watching with her dad as the fireworks exploded onscreen. She kissed his cheek as he hugged her, whispering in her ear how much he loved her and how she'd always be his little girl. The tears she'd been holding back started to fall freely.

She pulled away, smiling to let her father know she was alright before ducking towards the bathroom for something to dry her eyes. As she passed the front door, a sharp rap sounded.

Bella gave one more furtive wipe at her cheeks and opened the door, expecting to find one of her father's deputies standing there. Instead the stoop was empty save for two large baskets piled with cut roses. Fully in bloom, perfectly formed, dark red roses. Just like the bud she'd found in her father's pocket that she'd forgotten to ask about.

"Dad?" she called, as she lifted first one basket and then the other, pulling them into the hallway. "Do you have a secret admirer I should know about?"

He appeared in the doorway, still wearing the ridiculous party hat she'd insisted on, and for a moment she thought he might pass out, he turned so pale.

"Where did you get those?" he demanded.

"They were on the doorstep, but whoever left them must have taken off fast – I didn't see anyone when I opened the door. Hey, roses from a knock and run are better than some things people like to leave on the police chief's doorstep, right?"

He remained silent as she pulled the containers into the kitchen, so she continued. "I wouldn't have thought you could get this many roses in the dead of winter, and such a beautiful shade. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it. Except for that rosebud in your pocket."

He followed her, sinking down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "What are you talking about, Bella?"

She frowned, puzzled, and ducked out of the kitchen into the laundry room to retrieve the now brittle bud. "This. You had it in your uniform pocket."

He took the flower from her gingerly, then suddenly pinched too tightly. She watched as the dried petals crumbled to dust beneath his fingers. He stood up abruptly.

"A mistake, I'm sure. Someone just got confused with the delivery - I'll check and see who they were meant to go to tomorrow. I'm going to bed now, back to work tomorrow."

He stepped forward and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead, then walked away.

Bella stared at the baskets, more confused than ever. A mistake? Their town was so small it was unlikely someone had mixed up the houses. And there was only one florist in town, run by a senior citizen who didn't make midnight deliveries. She wondered what her father was hiding. Could it be possible he was seeing someone?

She dismissed the idea. In all the years since her mother was gone, she'd never seen him look at another woman in more than a friendly manner, and she knew he still went to her mother's grave every Sunday morning like clockwork. Her mother had joked once that Swans mated for life, and Bella suspected that was true for her father.

Perhaps he was merely embarrassed that someone had decided to pursue him. He was a handsome man still, respected in the community. And she would be leaving soon, making him even more eligible, she supposed.

But red roses? Such an odd gesture for her father. Anyone who knew him would know that he wasn't exactly a flowers kind of guy. Fishing lures perhaps, but not flowers.

Bella sighed and stared at the large baskets. There must be several dozen roses there, lying jumbled together. They needed to be in water or they'd all be drooping by morning. She began to rummage beneath the sink for old vases and cups, and started to count out the flowers to arrange them in dozens. Nearly an hour later, she surveyed the room. There were roses everywhere. Three hundred and fifty eight to be exact, just shy of thirty dozen. She laughed softly to herself. Her dad better watch out. Someone was really after him.

~*~

The sounds of banging downstairs pulled her from sleep the next morning, and she jolted upright. She'd meant to set the alarm to make her father breakfast for his first day back. She hurried downstairs to find him dumping vase after vase of roses into a trash bag.

"Dad? What are you doing? I was trying to keep them from dying."

He froze for a moment, then turned to her. "They shouldn't be here, Bella."

She frowned, then gave a small shrug, picking up one of the cups and dumping the flowers into the bag. She must have been right that the flowers were from someone he knew, and he'd been embarrassed by the attention.

They worked silently for a few moments before she cleared her throat. "Dad, if, you know, if you were interested in . . . dating-"

"I'm not interested in dating anyone, Bella." He cut her off before she could go further, and the discussion ended. The tension remained during breakfast, but he kissed her forehead as always before grabbing the lunch she'd packed and heading out the door.

She watched as the car turned down the driveway, snapping on the radio as she piled the dishes in the sink.

"Alright, start your countdown, shoppers! Only three hundred and fifty-eight shopping days until next Christmas!"

The announcer's voice echoed as she stared at the trash bag now sitting by the door. Three hundred and fifty-eight roses delivered just after midnight on New Year's. Three hundred and fifty-eight days from New Year's until Christmas. Couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

She knelt down beside the trash bag and gently opened it, pulling out a single rose. The petals were still intact, the deep crimson almost luminescent even under the harsh fluorescents of the kitchen. They were truly beautiful, and she knew they must mean something to her father even if he wasn't yet ready to talk about it.

She closed the bag, and carried the one flower up to her bedroom, pressing it carefully between the pages of a favorite novel.

~*~

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind as her final semester of high school began and the deadlines for college applications drew nearer. She was surprised during her Calculus class to be summoned to the guidance office via the intercom, and even more surprised to find her father sitting across the desk from Mrs. Marrion.

"Bella, why didn't you tell me you were interested in going out of state? With your excellent grades and SATs, you'll be very competitive." The guidance counselor fanned out a host of brochures adorned with photos of green lawns and stately buildings.

Bella looked at her father, then her feet. "Mrs. Marrion, I know those are great schools, they're just-"

"Mrs. Marrion, would you tell Bella about the financial aid options you were sharing with me?" her father interrupted.

"Oh yes, of course. I hadn't really mentioned this because you seemed so set on going to a state school, but several of these private universities have excellent grant and loan aid packages that could make the cost competitive for you, Bella." Mrs. Marrion smiled from across the desk. "I'm sorry we haven't talked this all through before – I really thought you were simply interested in being close to home."

Bella sat frozen, trapped between the twin beams of encouragement from her father and the guidance counselor. A large part of the appeal of the small school just a few hours away was its proximity. The thought of being so far from the comfort and familiarity of home made her heart ache and her stomach queasy.

But then she remembered the bushels of roses her dad had been so embarrassed by. Maybe if she showed him she could be fine on her own, he'd feel able to move on as well. He deserved that, after so many years caring for her.

She tried a tentative smile as she reached for the brochure from a larger university several hours to the south, where the cover depicted students basking in warm sunlight and studiously reading books as they lounged on wide lawns together.

"I guess it won't hurt to apply."


	2. Part 2

A/N: Thank you, thank you for following this story and for the kind reviews and comments - I appreciate each one! Usual disclaimers apply - on to the tale.

~*~

Part 2

~*~

"Whew, so glad that's done. Freedom at last!" Her roommate bounced into the room, her usual scattered self as she tossed a textbook on her bed. "I thought exams were never going to be done. You finished, Bella?"

Bella closed the novel she was reading and nodded. "My last one was this morning."

"I am so ready to get out of here." Her roommate laughed. "Not before tonight's party though. Are you coming?"

Bella was surprised she still bothered to ask.

"I, um . . ." She paused, suddenly aware that her excuses were gone. No papers to write, no books to read, no classes to study for. She'd pled conflicts for a solid semester, the need to keep her grades up for her scholarship, the time commitments of her work study job, but those were all done now until the next year.

"My dad's coming down, I need to do a few things to get ready for him," she finished awkwardly. "Have fun though."

"You know I will. Sorry the room's a wreck – I forgot your dad was coming here instead of you going home. I'll try to clean before I fly out tomorrow, okay?"

Her phone buzzed and she was off again, her attention scattered in a way Bella had become accustomed to over the last few months.

She'd been surprised when Mrs. Marrion's predictions had come true and she'd been offered a merit scholarship that covered much of her tuition at such a prestigious school. Her father had insisted that she enroll, assuring her that he could handle the remaining costs, and she'd found herself on a plane in August, everything she owned in two large suitcases.

The university was beautiful, the classes challenging, her roommate friendly, if a little hyper. She should have been ecstatic.

Mostly she was just homesick. She missed the cool mist that rolled out of the forest each morning, the patter of steady rain on her window, the beauty of the mountains that had surrounded their small town. She missed the little cottage, with its creaky doors and cranky furnace, and her soft blue bedroom walls that her father had surprised her with when she was thirteen. She missed her father, his gruff voice calling out when he came home, his sharp sense of humor, and the knowledge that the matching set of eyes across the kitchen table from her knew exactly how much she still missed her mother.

She wanted to go home.

The trip was long and there was little spare cash for luxuries like a plane ticket just for the weekend, so she'd agreed with her father that it would be better to wait for the end of the semester before she came back. Thanksgiving had been especially hard, sitting in her dorm room alone. She'd struggled not to cry when she'd talked to her father on the phone about how much she was looking forward to coming home for Christmas. And then he'd surprised her by announcing that he wanted to drive down to see her for the holidays instead.

It had been so unexpected that she'd almost dropped the phone. Her father, who hadn't missed a day of work since getting lost in the snowstorm the previous Christmas, wanted to take off and drive to see her? As much as she wanted to see him, she wanted to be home as well. She'd tried to persuade him, but he'd been so determined.

So now she sat, curled around her pillow as she flipped another page in a book she'd read many times before. A faded and crushed flower tumbled from the pages and onto the bed. She picked it up carefully.

The dark red rose. The one she'd saved from New Year's Eve.

Her father had yet to mention if he was seeing anyone, though she'd dropped a few subtle hints from time to time, but the pieces began to come together. Perhaps he was in a relationship now and didn't want her to meet this woman. She gasped. Could he possibly have already moved her into their house? Was that why he was so adamant she not return home?

She launched herself off the bed, suddenly angry. Why couldn't he just trust her to be able to handle that? Couldn't he understand how much she needed to be there, instead of here?

The laptop that had been her graduation gift whirred to life and she began checking the internal message boards under the shared ride categories. She narrowed the postings and then smiled. _Rider needed, share cost of gas._ The final destination was only a few towns over from hers and they were leaving in two days.

Bella picked up the phone and dialed the number listed.

~*~

The cottage was dark when she arrived and her father's squad car missing, but she waved on the girl she'd driven up with and fumbled with her keys until she was able to get the front door open. The lights flickered on with a flip of the switch. She exhaled with relief that everything was much the same as before, if slightly messier. He'd gotten a tree, she could see, though it only had a few stands of lights draped on it. She'd have to finish that for him later.

She bounced up the stairs, tossing her bag on her bed and flopping back on the softness she hadn't felt in months. The small stuffed frog that had been her favorite stuffed animal for cuddling as a little girl was perched next to her, and she snatched it up, giggling as she relaxed into the pillow. The clock beside her bed showed that her father would be home soon. She sat up, deciding that a surprise dinner might help to soften him up when he found she'd changed their plans.

The refrigerator revealed that her father had been eating a lot of takeout, but she scrounged in the freezer and pulled out a few items she could cobble together into a decent meal. Humming, she turned around and stopped at the sight of what lay on the kitchen table.

More deep red roses. All dead, several of them crushed to pieces.

She heard a noise behind her and turned to find her father in the kitchen doorway, his hand on his gun.

"Bella? What are you doing here?"

She could hear anger and apprehension mingled in his voice. "I needed to come home, Dad. I, I just missed being here so much, and there was a girl driving up I could ride with, and-"

He strode forward, grabbing her arm and causing her to drop the frozen meat she'd still been clutching. "You have to leave. Now."

She gasped and dug in her heels, shocked. "Dad! No! I just got here." She stepped back, her own anger bubbling to the surface. "What are you hiding? Why can't I be here? Is it because of the flowers? Who is she, Dad?"

Her father's face was a mask of agony as he grasped her shoulders more gently. "Bella, you know I love you, and I'd do anything to keep you safe. And that's what I'm doing. It's dangerous for you here, right now. I need you to leave."

She pulled away. "What are you talking about?"

"There've been some hikers going missing the last few months. We're not sure what-"

She cut him off, incredulous now. "Dad, that's ridiculous. You didn't want me to come home because some hiker got lost? I don't believe that."

She walked to the table and picked up one of the crushed flowers. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Is there . . . is there a woman?"

He gave a harsh half laugh. "If only it were that simple. There'll never be anyone for me but your mother, Isabella."

"So tell me what it is," she said softly. "You taught me a long time ago that Swans don't keep secrets. So why are you keeping this one from me?"

He sat down at the table heavily, and as she sat across from him, she could see lines on his face that she didn't recall from a few months earlier. He looked tired and older.

"You'll think that I'm crazy. I thought I was crazy, at first. But these things?" He gestured to the roses scattered across the table. "There's no other explanation for them. They're there every morning now on the doorstep. Roses in winter."

She waited patiently as he picked up another faded flower and crushed it in his fist. "Do you know what red roses mean, Bella?"

"Love. I've always read they mean love." She ducked her head. "And passion."

"And sacrifice," her father echoed. "Red roses mean sacrifice, and that's what this bastard is demanding. But I'm not going to let him. I'd rather I died in that snowstorm than give him what he asked. Before I give him you."

~*~

The rest of the night passed in a blur and she found herself lying in her bed, clutching her frog prince for all she was worth as she pondered her father's revelations.

He'd found himself disoriented by flying snow and winds so harsh he could barely see after he'd lost the search party last December. He tried to keep moving, knowing that to stop would be suicide, but the chill and resistance of the wind began to sap his strength. Searching for shelter, he'd finally managed to crawl beneath a few low hanging branches that warded off some of the snow. How long he dozed there he wasn't sure, but he awoke to feel himself being lifted as though he were a rag doll and carried out of the forest.

He'd been nearly frozen by the time his rescuer reached a clearing and opened an iron gate set in a high wall. He caught a glimpse of a large house, made of stone and glowing from lights within, before he once again lost consciousness.

When he came to, he was tucked into a bed piled with warm blankets, with a roaring fire lit in a fireplace in the corner. Clothes and food were set out, and he'd eaten eagerly, nearly starved by that point. When he'd finished he ventured to the door, only to find it locked from the outside.

He'd tried to pick the lock without success, then settled in to wait for his rescuer to return. As the hours passed, he'd tried to sort through what had happened, but his memories remained spotty. When darkness fell, a voice from the other side of the door asked if he wished to join him for dinner.

Bella clutched her small frog, running her fingers over the worn velvet as she remembered the next part of the story.

Her father had agreed to the invitation, and found the door unlocked when he tried it again. He made his way down hallways and stairs until he came to another open room, where a table was set with fine china and a full meal waited. At the head of the table sat a man, or something with a semblance of a man. A dark cloak draped low over his face, preventing any real view of his visage, and long leather gloves covered his hand and arms. The gloves and cloak contributed to his old-fashioned appearance, and her father had recounted that he felt as though he'd somehow stepped back through time as he seated himself at that table.

The man had spoken, asking her father his name and what he did, but revealing little in return, other than instructing her father that he could call him Edward. He'd eaten nothing himself, but offered portions of the dishes, and multiple glasses of wine, the perfect host. As the meal ended, her father had thanked Edward for saving his life, and asked if there was any way he could repay him.

And that's when he'd made his request. A week of companionship with his only daughter.

Bella sat up, wrapping her hands around her knees as she watched the sky begin to lighten. It would be daylight soon, when she'd promised her father they would drive to the airport and she would leave. She didn't have much time.

She stealthily slipped the covers back and slid out of bed, grabbing the few items she'd unpacked the night before and shoving them back into her small suitcase as she remembered the rest of her father's story.

He'd refused the request immediately. The man had risen to his feet, and made his demand again, his fingers clenching around a silver goblet with sufficient strength to nearly crush the vessel. If her father ever wanted to return home, the man demanded, he would have to agree to give up his daughter for one week's time within one year.

Despite the man's vow that he wouldn't harm her, her father had again refused, even more frightened after the inhuman display of strength. The man moved then, faster than any man could, and restrained her father, carrying him in that fashion back to his room and locking him in.

For the next two days, the creature would appear at the door, inviting her father to dinner in a civil manner, then repeat the terms for his release. Her father tried everything he could think of to escape his room, but found the panes too small and the windows sealed shut. He'd attempted to break free on the way to dinner the second night, but discovered the front door to be bolted, and Edward swiftly on his heels before he could further investigate.

Growing desperate, her father had asked about the terms of the deal again. By the following Christmas, he was to bring her into the forest to be met by Edward for a week's stay. Once the week was completed, he would return her home, unharmed. If the terms were fulfilled, the debt would be repaid. But if not, the creature made clear her father would be taken in her place, with no promise that harm would not befall him.

One year more with her. Her father had cried for the first time in years as he held her close and confessed to her. That all he'd been able to think was at least he'd have one year more with her before he'd have to return to fulfill his debt.

So he'd agreed.

His next memory was of her face when she'd found him on the doorstep, and he'd thought at first that the stone mansion and mysterious creature named Edward had just been a hallucination brought on by the shock of the exposure. But the night the roses had arrived, he'd known it was real. There'd always been an enormous bowl of those red roses on the dinner table each evening, and when he'd asked about them, the creature had told him that red roses represented sacrifice. He'd understood then what he had to do, knew that the clock was ticking and that he needed to remove her as far away as possible before the time came for him to return and fulfill his debt.

Bella picked up her frog and added him to the suitcase, then carefully took the handle and eased down the stairs. Pausing by the kitchen table, she laid the carefully worded note where her father would be sure to find it, a likely futile attempt to reassure him that she would be fine. She hoped that would be true.

She opened the front door and saw it lying there, a single, perfect, red rose. A sign, she was sure, that this creature was waiting for her. The still dark morning swallowed her as she walked into the woods, the rose clutched firmly in her hand.

~*~

The woods had never been a place of fear to her. She'd played among them as a child, then as she grew older, carried her books into the forest and curled beneath the canopy of leaves that softly filtered the light.

Even this morning she felt safe as she walked deeper, not sure where she should go, but certain he would find her. Her suitcase that had seemed so light when she started began to make her arm ache as she plunged deeper into the woods than she could ever recall going before. Little looked familiar in the first tendrils of daylight muted by the gathering clouds.

Then she saw him, just as her father had described, silhouetted next to a tree. He was tall, his body cloaked and hooded from head to toe. Before she could blink, he was standing next to her, sliding the suitcase from her hand into his gloved one.

A polite monster. How droll.

She fought back the urge to laugh hysterically.

"You are Edward." It was as much a statement as a question, but his cloaked head nodded.

"I am. And you must be the lovely Bella. You have come to fulfill your father's bargain?"

His voice was low and melodic and there was something in the way he said her name that seemed familiar. She snapped out of her trance and realized he was waiting for her reply.

"I have. But before we go further, I must ask you a few questions."

He inclined his head in agreement.

"Will this satisfy my father's debt in full? Do you swear on whatever is sacred to you that you will no longer bother him?"

He gave a small laugh. "Little is sacred to me, but I assure you, I have no further use for your father."

His response was less reassuring than she hoped, but she pressed on. "And for myself, do you intend to . . . harm me?"

"I do not intend to, no."

Again, the phrasing left her worried, as she considered how that language could be parsed, but she was committed now. "Then I give you my word that I will be your companion for a week as agreed. Please lead the way."

She followed behind him as the first snowflakes began to fall around them.


	3. Part 3

A/N: Thank you so very much for all the wonderful comments and feedback on this story – it's very much appreciated!

~*~

Part 3

~*~

It seemed as if they walked for hours, though it was difficult for her to tell. At times she felt that they were just moving in circles. He seemed certain of his path, however, and she followed close behind, thankful the snow remained light and she'd worn her heaviest coat.

She'd been so focused on following his footsteps ahead of her that she almost walked into him when he paused. She looked up and peered around his tall form, catching sight of a stone wall now looming before them. He led her towards an ornate iron gate that provided access through the wall.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Her father's description of the house had been somewhat limited, given his arrival, and the structure that rose before them as Edward gestured her through the gate in the stone wall was beyond what she'd imagined.

Though not overly large, graceful rooflines and a series of arched windows set into the stonework gave an elegance to the house, completed by the creeping tendrils of ivy that clung to the building, softening the grey of the stone. It was the sort of house she imagined only existed in fairy tales.

She certainly felt as if she'd somehow wandered into one.

He mounted the steps and opened the door to the house for her. Bella paused at the threshold, remembering that the door bolted and would trap her once she entered.

"Bella?"

She swallowed and set her shoulders, stepping inside the doorway. The sound of the door swinging shut and the click of a lock behind her made her close her eyes.

"What . . . what would you like me to do?" she asked hesitantly, the need to turn and race out the door clawing its way up from her insides. Companionship. He wanted her here for companionship. What did that even mean? Would he expect her to, to touch him in some way? Was that what he'd meant by companion?

She felt her breath coming faster as she heard him move behind her.

"I'd like for you to rest today, Bella. You've had a long journey. Come, and I'll show you to your room."

Her shoulders sagged in momentary relief at his lack of demands, and she followed him as he led her up a flight of stairs and down a shadowy hallway. She found herself fascinated by the surroundings, the art lining the walls, the heavy drapes that covered the windows punctuating the hallway. It was almost like walking through a museum.

She stumbled as he abruptly halted before a door. His gloved hand shot out and steadied her against him. Her father had said he was fast, but the quickness of his reflexes startled her and she jerked away, almost falling as he dropped her suitcase and caught her with both arms, tangling her in the folds of his cloak. She caught her breath at the sudden contact. He felt solid beneath her hands that now rested on his chest, and the scent she remembered that lingered on the roses, a heady mix of bergamot and cloves, curled around her. She felt an odd desire to bury her face in the swirls of material and breathe in the calming fragrance.

He set her away from him quickly without a word, and she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Her fears of the sort of companionship he might be seeking must have been unwarranted.

His body turned away from her as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, again gesturing her through into a well-appointed bedroom. She smiled as she realized the walls were painted a soft blue that called to mind her bedroom at home, and that the far wall was lined with bookshelves that were well stocked.

"Thank you." She turned to him as he sat her suitcase at the foot of the bed. "It's a lovely room."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I will return shortly with some dinner for you. In the future, I'd like for you to dine with me, but tonight, I see that you are exhausted."

She hadn't realized until then how tired she was, the combination of the marathon drive the previous day from school, the near sleepless night after her father's revelations, and the long walk through the forest suddenly crashing in on her as she drooped onto the bed and nodded.

She'd almost fallen asleep when a soft knock alerted her that he'd returned with a tray of simple sandwiches and fruit and a steaming pot of tea. He placed the tray on a small desk, then turned to leave.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Would you like to stay and eat with me?"

He paused as though surprised at the invitation. "Thank you, but you are weary, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be the best of company at the moment. I will see you tomorrow, Bella."

He exited and the lock clicked shut, imprisoning her.

The wave of panic that had begun to dissipate rose again and she found herself across the room before she realized it, twisting and turning the knob frantically despite knowing that it would not yield. She crossed to the windows and threw back the drapes, finding as expected that they were sealed, light streaming through dozens of small diamond panes.

She returned to the bed, huddling in the center as she tried to make sense of her surreal situation. What had she agreed to? She'd given her word to stay with this man, no, this creature, whatever he was. She'd already seen enough to know that he wasn't just a man. He'd threatened her father's life, left stalkerish rose reminders for a year, and locked her in a room. Who knew what he had planned for her next.

And yet, he'd also saved her father's life and treated him well while he'd been here, she reminded herself, trying to find reasons to quell her trepidation. This Edward had been polite, if taciturn, to her since she'd encountered him, had given her an elegant bedroom and made her dinner. He'd told her he'd see her the next day, which at least implied that he didn't plan to murder her in her slumber.

She shuddered. That hadn't really helped that much.

Bella lay back slowly, staring at the closed door that imprisoned her, unsure if she should sleep. But despite her attempts to fight it, her eyes soon drifted shut.

~*~

When she opened her eyes again, the room was darker than before. She could see through the still open drapes that the skies had cleared and the moon risen, bright and full. She hefted herself off the bed, feeling wrinkled and sweaty and longing for a bath as she made her way to the window, snagging one of the forgotten sandwiches off the tray and taking a small bite.

The bedroom must be to the rear of the house, she decided as she chewed thoughtfully. She could see a small greenhouse attached to the house and lit from within. That must be where the roses he'd left were from. She let her eyes wander further. The snowfall from earlier obscured her view, covering everything in uniform white. The forest beyond the wall was visible from her position and she could see that a small stream ran behind the property, winding a path that cut further back into the woods.

A single stag stepped out from the trees and moved towards the water, head down. She watched in delight as it bent to drink from the stream, its neck arched gracefully.

Faster than her eye could process, the deer suddenly was yanked into the air. Hooves flailed as she watched gloved hands wrench aside the stag's rack, exposing the heaving flesh of its neck as it bucked against the stronger predator. His black cloak fell back in the struggle, and she could see a flash of pale skin and bright hair as he descended, pressed to the deer's throat in a twisted embrace.

She watched in horror as the bright red of the stag's blood colored the snow around them.

The bile rose in her throat and she raced for the bathroom, falling to her knees before the toilet and retching up the few bites of the sandwich she'd consumed. When she felt steady enough to move, she rose shakily to her feet, splashing cold water on her face as she rinsed her mouth, clutching the cold marble of the vanity.

Had she really just seen that? Had he . . . drank that stag's blood?

She drew a deep breath and returned to the window, peering just past the draperies. There was nothing there. No stag. No Edward. No blood. Only pristine white snow.

She curled on the bed, dragging her small frog out of her case for comfort, and wondered if she was going mad.

~*~

The morning light streamed through the window, awakening her again, and Bella sat up slowly, realizing she was still wearing her clothes from the day before. The previous day's events crowded her mind, but she chose to focus on small things, one step at a time. A hot shower first, a change of clothes, brushing her teeth. She caught her gaze in the bathroom mirror, pale, dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look in them.

Hardly a prize for any beast.

She folded the towels she'd used precisely, arranged and rearranged the few toiletry items she'd lined on the sink, and then, finally, when she could no longer think of anything else to do, approached the door and tried the handle.

To her surprise, it turned. She stepped back again, unsure. Her father had said the door to his room had always been locked, and she remembered the distinct click on the key turning last night when he'd left.

She stepped forward, turned the knob again, and slowly eased the door open a crack. She swiftly shut it. Perhaps it was a trap, some sort of test?

Pacing back and forth nervously, she strode to the door again with determination, opening it fully. Nothing happened. No creature leapt at her; there was only the silence of the gloomy hallway.

Although a few doors remained to the right of her room, she turned to the left, retracing their steps from yesterday. There were several other doors on the hallway, and she passed two before gaining the courage to try the third. It was locked, as were all the others she encountered.

The stairs descended to the entryway, and she was unsurprised to find that the front door was also bolted in some fashion that she could not open. She continued her exploration of the downstairs, curious now if she was truly alone. More locked doors were the results of her quest, until she finally felt a knob give way beneath her hand.

Her stomach grumbled as she found she'd stumbled into a small dining room which looked out onto a terrace and the greenhouse she'd noticed from her bedroom window. A place was laid for one, with a selection of fruit and baked goods and a glass of orange juice waiting. She realized she was famished, and seated herself quickly before she noticed the note laid in the center of the plate.

She plucked it and began to read the few sloping lines directing her to come to the library when she completed her breakfast, signed with a single E. She ate quickly, her nerves returning as she swallowed the last of her juice and returned to the hallway. Near the end, she saw that a set of double doors now stood open.

The library was larger than she'd expected, spanning two floors, with books lining the walls in every direction. She stopped, awed as she turned slowly, surveying the sheer number of the collection. A small chuckle from the fireplace startled her and she turned quickly to find him leaning back in the depths of an armchair angled towards the crackling fire.

"You like books, then?"

She nodded, stepping towards him before she realized it. "I love books. My father used to call me the little librarian; I spent so much time at the library after . . . when I was younger. I work in the library now, at school."

"Come and join me," he invited, indicating the matching chair across from him.

She complied, perching on the edge of the seat and watching the flames dance. The silence lengthened, and she found her brain frozen, unable to think of a single thing to say. His cloak enveloped him as always and she felt as though she were sitting with a shadow.

"Why do you wear that?" she blurted, then bit her lip at the possible consequences of so brash a question.

"Because I do not wish to be seen," he replied evenly.

"Why?" she whispered. "Are you . . ."

"Am I a monster?" he asked. "Yes."

She froze, her heart thumping wildly in her chest at his words.

He gave a low chuckle. "Relax, Bella. I promised that I would not harm you."

"Then why do you want me here?" she asked.

He paused for a long moment. "I am very lonely. After all, who would willingly stay with a monster?"

The silence fell back around them as she sat, unsure of how to reply to that statement. Two days earlier, she would have said there was no such thing as monsters, but she was no longer certain of such things. And she could think of no way to answer his question but in the negative.

But although she was his companion unwillingly, she felt obligated to fulfill her bargain with him. "Is there something you'd like for me to do?"

"Would you read to me?"

He handed her a novel from the table at his side, the leather of his glove soft and warm from the heat of the fire as he touched her hand. She smiled a little as she saw the title, then opened to the first page and began to read. "Since Aramis's singular transformation into a confessor of the order, Baisemeaux was no longer the same man."

~*~

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror again, nervously running the brush through her long, dark hair as she surveyed her appearance. She'd brought little with her, a few pairs of faded jeans and simple tops, all of which seemed too casual for her surroundings.

After all what did one wear to dinner with a monster?

And did it even matter if one was to became dinner for that monster?

She fought back a nervous laugh at her reflection. If only Emily Post had been so helpful as to cover that topic.

She'd been surprised at how the afternoon had flown by. Edward had surprised her by taking the book from her when she began to grow hoarse, reading aloud himself in an engaging fashion for a time before they'd begun to trade chapters. Her initial apprehension has dissipated as they read, lulled by the heat of the fire and the story that had kept her brain occupied and away from thoughts of their prior discussion.

_Who would willingly stay with a monster?_

Who indeed? An odd swell of pity welled in her chest as she thought of him sitting in the chair before the fire. She wondered if he spent all his days that way, alone.

_Except for when he was slaughtering the local wildlife._

She was certain now that she hadn't imagined the scene outside her window, and the thought of that blood staining the snow still gave her chills. He wasn't human, and yet she found that she wasn't as afraid of him as perhaps she ought to be.

She placed the brush on the counter and left her room to join him for dinner.

~*~

Another door had been unlocked to her this time, and she'd found the dining room easily. Like the other rooms, there was a sense of gloom that pervaded, aided by the tightly drawn drapes and few flickering candles that sat in a candelabra in the center of the table. She caught sight of the bowl of roses her father had mentioned, several dozen arranged in a bowl next to his elbow.

He rose as she entered the room, moving behind her to pull out her chair and helping her into the seat. She noted that there was no plate set for him, and though he urged her to sample the various dishes before her, he made no move towards the food himself.

She ate in silence for a time, casting about for a topic of conversation that didn't involve why he was not eating now and what he might be eating later.

"Your roses are lovely. It's so rare to see them in winter."

He nodded, the hood sliding further around his face. "I have a greenhouse. It's one of the ways I amuse myself. Roses have always been a favorite of mine."

"I've never seen red roses quite that color."

He plucked one from the bowl, his black gloved hand caressing the tip of a petal. "These are called Black Beauty." He laid the rose in front of her plate. "Perhaps tomorrow we can visit the roses, if you like."

She nodded, reaching out to pick up the flower he'd laid before her, lifting it to her nose to inhale the scent.

"Bella, there is something I must ask you."

She raised her head, surprised by the serious note in his voice. "Yes?"

"Wouldyou willingly stay with a monster?"

Her hand trembled, and she dropped the rose onto her plate, unsure of how to respond.

His head bowed further as the silence lengthened. Then he pushed his chair away and left the room.

~*~

She almost ran after him, but the question had unnerved her and she knew that the only answer she could give was not the one he'd wish. But he'd been kind to her so far, adhering to his word, and she felt some sense of shame that she hadn't been able to respond at all.

She rose from the table and mounted the stairs, finding her way more easily now. Her door stood open, and she wondered if it would be locked again this evening. She closed it behind her, and found to her surprise that a number of clothes had been laid on the bed. Apparently he'd shared her assessment of her wardrobe, though the items were simple in nature, if finer quality than she typically could afford.

A small stack sat at the end of the bed and she lifted one to find that it was a nightdress of ivory silk. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of him picking out such items for her, even if the garment was surprisingly modest. She let the waterfall of fabric slide through her fingertips and on to the bed, then retrieved her faded flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt from her suitcase, just as she heard the click of the lock.

~*~

_She found herself back at the window, staring out into the night. Snow had begun to fall again, and the woods seemed dark and deserted. She saw him then, standing at the edge of the forest in the shadow of a tree. He stepped out into the moonlight, and slid back the hood of his cloak._

_Her prince._

_His face was just as she remembered it, a strong jaw softened by plush lips, golden eyes surrounded by long lashes. He looked up, his mouth curving into a smile, and she found her own responding, the corners curling up to mirror his._

_She raised a hand to the window, feeling foolish and sure he couldn't see her, but he lifted a hand in response, then motioned for her to join him. _

_She watched as he mouthed her name, his lips drawing out the syllables in invitation. _

"_Bella. Stay with me."_

_She nodded and turned from the window, eager to find him, only to find the doorway filled by another. He was imposing, the dark cloak shielding her from everything but his voice._

"_Stay with me."_

~*~

The morning light woke her the following day, and she shook her head to clear the cobwebs of the strange dream. She'd had dreams of her prince for years, but they'd always been something akin to fantasy, moments of escape into a beautiful reality that never mingled with the events of her waking life.

Perhaps now that her real life had become fantastical, that border had been crossed. She readied herself quickly, and was pleased to find the door unlocked when she was ready to leave. Breakfast was again in the small nook, and another note waited on her plate, along with a single rose, this one a delicate hue of lavender. She colored slightly as she picked up the flower, wondering if this shade had a meaning attached to it. She fumbled with the note, but found it as prosaic as the one from the previous day, directing her to join him in the library after she'd finished her breakfast.

She was surprised to hear music as she ventured down the hallway, a beautiful piano concerto that seemed familiar but that she couldn't name. She entered the library to find him seated at a large piano in the corner, and caught a glimpse of pale hands dancing across the keys.

His fingers crashed suddenly and she realized he must have heard her gasp. He turned away, then back to her, flesh again hidden by his long gloves. She found herself more puzzled than ever. She'd thought perhaps there was something unusual he was trying to conceal, oddly colored skin, scales, excessive hair. Yet from her brief glimpse, his hands had appeared normal.

"You startled me." His voice was sharp. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

"I'm sorry, I . . . you play beautifully."

One shoulder lifted slightly, and he shook his head. "Something to pass the time. I believe we spoke of visiting the greenhouse today?"

"Yes, I'd like that." She held up the flower she still carried. "Thank you for the rose. This one's beautiful as well."

He led the way back through the house and into the kitchen, where she hadn't ventured before, to a back door that opened into a small passageway surrounded by glass that led further into the greenhouse proper. The humid warmth surrounded her immediately as they stepped inside to a lush wonderland of blooms.

She walked slowly, drinking in the variations of shades. He had varieties in every color she'd ever seen and then some, but it was clear that the reds were his favorites, taking up more than half the enclosure.

"These are incredible. Do you grow them all year round?"

He nodded, bending to touch one of the reds he'd called a Black Beauty last night. "Yes. I adjust the temperature and light – here, it can always be summer."

"I suppose flowers would like that," Bella murmured.

He straightened, moving to another plant. "And you wouldn't?"

She smiled. "No, I've discovered that I miss winter and snow and rain."

"How is that?" he asked, as he lifted one of the pots, carrying it over to a bench and pulling heavier gardening gloves over his leather ones. "You may water the plants, if you'd like."

She watched as he began to prune the bush, trimming small bits of dead limbs and leaves away, then picked up a watering can and filled it at the sink, thankful for something to occupy her hands.

"Where I enrolled in school – it's so different. Everyone said that I'd love the sun all the time, but I missed here. I like the rain and the snow, and bundling up in the winter. And holidays feel strange when it's so warm. It didn't feel much like Christmas, even though people were putting up trees and decorating. I usually do that at home, decorate the tree for my dad. We both like having one, I guess because it was one of my mother's favorite things."

She stopped abruptly mid-babble, recalling the half-decorated tree in the corner of the living room, and fought the sudden flash of anger at Edward for taking her away from him. She closed her eyes, seeing her father's face as he'd crushed one of the roses before her. Red roses meant sacrifice. And love. And that was why she was here, she reminded herself.

"I could see that being one of your mother's favorites. She seemed to enjoy life very much."

She turned abruptly, sloshing water.

"You knew my mother?"

He nodded, the cloak swaying around him as he remained bent to his task. "She liked to walk in the woods. From time to time she would stumble upon me and we would talk. She was a rare person, able to see below the surface to the heart of things."

"She was," Bella whispered. "She never mentioned you, though I was very young when she died." A thought struck her. "How old are you?"

His laugh surprised her, genuine and deep, though rusty with disuse. "I suppose you would wonder that, wouldn't you? I am very old, Bella. Very old indeed."

She wanted very much to ask the next question on the tip of her tongue. _What are you?_ But she resisted and returned to watering the plants, wondering just what below the surface her mother had seen in Edward.

~*~

The days began to fall into a predictable pattern as the week flew rapidly by. She awoke each morning, and came down to find breakfast and a rose awaiting her. The lavender was followed by a soft pink rose, followed by an exotic orange that reminded her of the sky at sunset with its shades of copper.

He was always in the library waiting for her, most often by the fire, a book at hand. They spent mornings in the greenhouse, afternoons reading to one another, and then each evening, she made her way to the dining room to find a well prepared meal.

It was only the last moments of the day that she dreaded, when he'd take another red rose from the bowl that sat at his side and place it before her, asking the question again.

"Would you willingly stay with a monster?"

She managed each night to give him a response, a slight shake of her head in the negative as she stared at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, unable to look at his cloaked form.

When she retreated to her room each night, she found herself spending hours sitting by the window, pondering the events of the day. She didn't condone his actions in threatening her father, but the palpable waves of loneliness that rolled off him at times made her understand how much he must have craved someone to converse with. She wondered if he'd asked for her because of her mother, if he'd thought perhaps that she'd share that same gift to see beneath the surface.

But even that puzzled her, for he hadn't given her the chance to see what lay beneath. He kept himself cloaked, both literally and figuratively. He said he was a monster, but he acted like a man. He'd forced her father to send his only daughter on threat of death, yet treated her as though she were a treasured guest.

She pushed away from the window, and climbed into the bed, touching the petals of the orange rose one last time before drifting off to dreams where her prince laughed and chased her through the forest.


	4. Part 4

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews and feedback on this story – I truly appreciate it. Someone asked about the meaning of the different roses – lavender roses symbolize enchantment, pink roses symbolize admiration, orange roses signal desire, and white roses are often associated with purity and new beginnings.

~*~

Part 4

~*~

There was a white rose lying by her plate the next morning, pristine and perfect, and she picked it up, sniffing its fragrance. She was less sure about the other colors, but she was certain that white roses stood for innocence.

She heard a muffled noise from the library as she approached, and hurried ahead, shocked speechless by what she found. An enormous tree stood in one corner of the library with Edward before it, hanging a final ornament from a lower bough. He turned, and though she couldn't see his face, she could tell by his stance and the curve of his shoulders that he was anxious for her response.

She clapped her hands in delight. "Edward, it's beautiful!" She made her way around the tree, taking in the antique ornaments and sparkling lights that adorned it.

After a full circuit, she stopped and stood before him. "It's the loveliest tree I've even seen. Do you always have one this big?"

He shook his head. "I . . . I haven't had need to celebrate in many years."

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what that meant. He'd done all this for her. Because she'd mentioned that she liked having a tree, that it reminded her of her mother.

She reached out and touched his hand gently as he straightened an angel. "Edward, thank you."

It was the first time she'd touched him intentionally, and he inhaled sharply, remaining motionless until she moved away, suddenly embarrassed. Perhaps that had been wrong, perhaps she'd crossed some line. She turned and hurried over to the fireplace to warm her hands and hide her flaming cheeks.

She heard him behind her, but refused to turn around.

"Bella, I'm sorry, that was just unexpected. I'm glad you like the tree. I wanted to do something that would please you."

His words caught her off guard, and she was surprised at the flutter she felt at the thought that he'd gone to such lengths to amuse her.

"I thought perhaps, in honor of the new addition to the room, we could read this today." His hand appeared at her side holding a book. He was standing close behind her, the sharp spicy scent she'd noted the first day enveloping her. She took the volume from his hand.

"A Christmas Carol. Very appropriate. Would you mind if I get something to drink from the kitchen first?"

He shook his head and returned to fussing at the tree. She walked back to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and taking a slow sip, trying to determine what, if anything, his gesture meant. She puttered for a moment, picking up an apple from a basket of fruit, sliding open drawers in search of a knife.

And then she saw them. A set of keys, half-hidden under folded papers. She paused for a second, then slid them into her pocket before returning to the library.

~*~

At dinner that evening, she toyed with her white rose, trying to formulate how she could answer him tonight, hating to again respond in the negative after such a perfect day. She'd been surprised at how the hours had flown by, and though she knew he'd ask the same question, she no longer could bring herself to think of him as a monster. And yet, she wasn't sure that she could say yes.

She finished the last bite of her meal, and took a sip of the spiced cider. He'd somehow conjured it up after she'd shared how much she enjoyed it. Her brain was buzzing, knowing that her least favorite moment was approaching. She wondering if she could distract him with her own request. Would he would show her his face if she asked? Was she truly ready to see it?

He reached for the red rose, the stem caught between his gloved fingers and she knew he was about to ask.

"Edward?"

He paused and turned back in her direction.

"Yes?"

"I wanted to tell you – what you did for me today, I don't think anyone's ever done anything quite that grand for me before."

"They should. You deserve grand things, Bella."

She blushed, feeling the heat of his gaze even though she couldn't see it.

"I only wish that I had something to give back to you."

He was silent for a moment, than rose from his chair, the scrape of the wood harsh in her ears. He circled the table and leaned down behind her, his voice close in her ear as he dropped the rose into her lap and whispered, "You have, Bella. You have."

Then he was gone.

~*~

The bathroom mirror revealed flushed cheeks and bright eyes, a far cry from her first night here. She stared at the keys lying on the white marble. They opened the door. She'd tried them when she came up from dinner and found that one fitted her lock.

She hadn't seen him after his exit, but she'd heard the familiar click after she'd pushed back from the table and slowly climbed the stairs to her room. Only now she had a way out. If she wanted it.

But she didn't want it. Not now. In two days she was supposed to leave, and he'd honored his end of the bargain in every way. She wouldn't run away from him.

But could she run to him?

"_I only wish that I had something to give back to you."_

"_You have, Bella. You have."_

What had he meant? Surely not that she'd given him a few days of her time under duress? And why had he not asked her the question, that dreaded, dreaded question? Was he tired of her company now?

She splashed cold water on her face, blotted it dry, and grabbed the keys. The door slid open quietly, the hallway deserted. She breathed a small sigh, having half expected him to be lingering outside her room.

She tiptoed to the head of the stairs and stopped, listening to the music that floated up from below. It was beautiful, haunting and melancholy, but with a recurring refrain that seemed to lilt and offer moments of hope. She'd never heard anything like it, and she found herself drawn down the steps and closer to the library.

The door sat partially open. The fire had burned low and she slipped into the shadows, watching as she realized he'd shed his cloak and gloves, and sat unmasked before her for the first time. He was half-turned. In the dim light she could only catch glimpses of the side of his face, his body swaying as though he were entranced by the music. The russet tones in his hair glinted like copper in the firelight, and though she couldn't seem him fully, she could discern that he had the face of a man. His jaw line seemed familiar, a determined set to it as he tackled an intricate series of runs flawlessly.

His fingers suddenly crashed to a halt and she jerked back, frightened that he'd spotted her. She eased back through the door, listening as he began to play again, slower this time, a key here and there, almost as though he were thinking aloud with notes. She tiptoed to the foot of the stairs, then raced back to her room and shut the door, relocking it.

She hastily shed her clothes and grabbed the first thing she could find, one of the nightdresses he'd left for her, yanking it over her head as she dove into the bed and curled beneath the covers, the keys clutched tightly in her hand.

"Bella?" His voice was soft, but she could hear the whisper from the hallway. "Bella, are you alright?"

She debated answering, then heard the soft click of the lock as he slid the door open. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep and hoping her breathing didn't give her away as she heard him step into the room.

She listened to the footsteps that walked to the bed, where he sighed, then walked away. She'd thought he'd left for a moment, and ventured a small peek that revealed him standing before her window, his back to her, head bowed low.

When he spoke, it was in a whisper. "Forgive me. I should never have brought you here. To ask someone so innocent to find room in her heart for a monster such as I was more foolish than any of my prior sins. And yet you have, my Bella, with your kindness towards me. These few days have been the brightest in my existence. Thank you for your gift, for no one has ever done anything so grand for me."

He was gone then, the door closing behind him as the lock turned. Bella listened to her heart race as his footsteps died away.

~*~

She slept little that night, her thoughts jumbled and scattered into pieces. By the time the sun broke over the horizon, she was up, pacing the room as she tried to pull herself together. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Tomorrow ended the bargain and she would be free to go home.

Tonight he'd ask her his question for the final time. And for the first time, she wasn't sure how she would answer.

She dressed hastily, tucking the keys into her pocket before descending the stairs. A deep red rose, one of the Black Beauty's he loved so, lay beside her plate.

Love. Sacrifice. Which was it supposed to mean?

She ate hastily, startled when she looked up to find him standing in the doorway, cloaked and inscrutable. Her thoughts from the night before bubbled up again. Would he take it off if she asked? Would he tell her why he called himself a monster?

Did she truly want to know?

It came down to trust. Did he trust her enough to show his true self? Did she trust herself enough to see below the surface?

"Would you mind if we work in the greenhouse this morning?"

She couldn't find her voice, just nodded in response.

~*~

She understood why he loved the roses. Working among them, their fragrant blooms dancing about, was calming. He'd given her a small bush, shown her how to prune it properly by cutting away the dead growth to make room for the living.

She lost herself in the project, stealing glances at him from time to time as he methodically tended to a row of blush roses. A poem she recalled from one of her survey courses popped into her head as she watched him move, so dark and yet so gentle among the bright flowers, and she murmured the lines.

"Shyly did its leaves unclose

Hid in their mossy robe,

But sweet was the slight and spicy smell

It breathed from its heart invisible."

He turned in her direction, and continued on for her,

"The rose is blasted, withered, blighted,

Its root has felt a worm,

And like a heart beloved and slighted,

Failed, faded, shrunk its form."

She looked down at the flower she'd just sliced away, blinking back tears. She'd forgotten those next lines, but she understood the message. His words last night and the rose this morning meant sacrifice. He was preparing to send her away just as she was opening to the possibility that she might return.

She could feel it the rest of the day as well. He had her select the book for their afternoon read, and although she delivered Mr. Rochester's impassioned and twisted speech of friends facing separation and the snapping of cords of communion with as much feeling as she could muster, he seemed impervious to what she'd hoped to communicate.

By the time they reached the evening hour, and she rose to prepare for dinner, she resolved herself that she had to confront him. Although the meal was as well prepared as all those the nights before, she managed to only push the portions round her plate, waiting for the inevitable. Finally she laid down her silverware, tired of the pretense.

"Ask me," she demanded.

"Ask you what?" he replied smoothly.

"Ask me what you have each night."

He turned his head away. "I no longer wish to know the answer."

"Then may I ask you a question instead?"

He tensed, but inclined his head. "If you wish."

"What kind of monster are you?"

"One that's no good for someone like you, Bella." He rose before she could protest and was gone.

She stormed to the library, the greenhouse, all the places she could think he might be, but found no trace of him. Frustrated, she climbed the stairs, tossing the clothes she brought with her into her suitcase, folding the garments he'd given her into a neat pile stacked on the desk. She'd take nothing with her she hadn't brought.

She plucked the crumpled night dress she'd worn the night before and tossed it atop the pile on the dresser, instead sliding into her familiar flannels and a heavy sweatshirt. She sank into the chair beside the window and staring out into the moonlight. A familiar figure moved out of the trees and she watched as he crossed the stream, disappearing from sight behind the stone wall.

He'd come home.

She opened the door to her room and hurried down the steps, following the sounds of his music as it drew her to the library like a siren's call. She stepped through the door, bolder now, and moved towards him, only pausing when he looked up, fully revealed to her. She gasped as she was caught in his golden eyes.

He was her prince.

"Bella." He rose from his seat, startled, grabbing for his cloak. She stepped closer, touching his arm.

"No, don't please. Please don't hide away again. You're him. You're the one I've been dreaming of." She reached her hand up, touching his cheek that was cool beneath her fingers. "You're real."

"Bella, no." He tried to move away, his golden eyes pleading with her. "I should never have brought you here. It was a mistake."

"It wasn't," she replied. "My mother told me about you, told me one day I'd find you."

"Bella, your mother – she didn't know what I was."

"Then what are you?" she demanded.

"He's a vampire, little girl."


	5. Part 5

~*~

Part 5

~*~

"I thought you didn't approve of playing with your food, Edward."

Edward turned with a hiss and shoved Bella behind him. She peered around, surprised to find a beautiful woman with hair the color of flames in the doorway.

"Victoria. What are you doing here?"

"You left the door open. I thought it must be a sign. Haven't you heard? It's the season for old acquaintances, my dear. For foolish vampires such as yourself, who torture themselves with thoughts of souls and sin, to pay up for past wrongs. So I've come to free you from your prison."

Victoria strolled forward, red eyes alight, and Bella could feel the tensing in Edward's muscles as she clutched the back of his shirt.

"You did disappear well, Edward. So many years it took me to find you, hiding out here in the middle of nowhere, feeding off the blood of filthy animals like some kind of woodland creature."

"Our debt was settled long ago by the Council," he responded. "I've done as promised, fulfilled my penance."

"Penance?" She threw back her head and laughed. "You stupid vampire, you think exiling yourself for killing my mate is sufficient because the all-mighty Council approved it? Because they believed you, that you were merely stopping a vampire gone rogue? He was mine. My mate. My love. And you took him away."

"Victoria-"

She cut him off as she paced across the room, her agitation clearly growing. "All's fair in love and war, isn't that how it goes, Edward? We haven't had a good war in a while, but what's that I smell?" She made a show of sniffing the air. "Is that just your precious roses, or dare I say it, could it be love? Have you gone and taken a mate now, Edward? A human one at that?"

She turned back to the doorway and called into the hall. "Riley, precious, you must see this. A little human, and a sweet smelling one at that."

Edward leaned down quickly, pulling her close as he whispered in her ear, "When I say your name, I need you to run. The window behind us will open to the outside. Go through it and the back gate, and keep running, as straight and as fast as you can until you reach the highway. Please, Bella, I can't fight them both with you here."

She nodded, trying to stop her hands from trembling as he brought them to his lips and kissed them as he had so many times in her dreams.

He stepped away from her as a tall, light-haired vampire walked into the room, looping his arms around Victoria.

"Well, Edward, who's your little plaything there?" she asked. "Do introduce us before I get to know her better. After all, isn't a mate for a mate fair? You've just never had one to take before."

"Bella," Edward said, and she turned and ran, tangling herself in the drapes as she shoved the window open and scrambled across the casing. She cursed her lack of shoes as her feet hit the ground, the snow that lingered soaking through her socks, but she pressed on as she'd promised, trying to ignore the sounds of the fight behind her as she ran through the night.

~*~

Her father had been shocked when she'd arrived on this doorstep shortly after midnight, exhausted and wearing a pair of borrowed sneakers a half size too big, loaned by the girl who'd picked her up alongside the road, shivering and half-frozen.

She'd seen the fear in his eyes, and knew that her father, despite what he'd seen, would never believe her story if she told him the truth. He'd never believed in fairy tales; why would he start now? She spun a tale of how Edward was a wealthy eccentric with a rare skin condition who lived alone, ashamed of how he appeared. She spoke of how he'd treated her well, and had determined to send her home early for Christmas out of a sense of remorse for what he'd done. Her bedraggled condition was explained by her claim that she'd gotten turned around and lost in the woods on her way home. She doubted that her father believed much of it, but his relief at her safe return overshadowed such trivialities.

She sat sleepless by her bedroom window as the night waned, wondering what had happened after she left. The odds of two against one weren't good, and there had been a hatred in the redhead's eyes that bordered on insane. She knew he was strong and fast, but the other pair had seemed to be as well. Was there any chance that he'd survived?

She covered her face with her hands, trying to sort through the past few hours, days, week. So much had happened in so little time, and yet she felt as though her world was altered forever.

He hadn't lied when he'd told her he was a monster. The woman, Victoria, had said he was a vampire, and he hadn't denied it.

_Who would willingly stay with a monster?_

Edward was a vampire. A vampire. What did that even mean? Did he kill people, drink their blood? She had a difficult time reconciling the man she'd come to know, who gently nurtured delicate flowers to life, with some bloodthirsty killer run amok, some dark fiend lurking in the shadows.

But did he really need blood to sustain him? The memory of the stag's blood gushing onto the snow in his arms played before her closed eyes. Could he live off of animals instead of humans? Did he?

And did he live all alone, buried with his books and flowers and music, because of what he was? Because he'd killed the redhead's mate? Were there others of his kind he could be with?

Why was he so lonely? Why had he hid himself from her, kept his beautiful face cloaked? Why had he wanted her to come to him?

Why had he made her feel things for him? Things one wasn't supposed to feel for monsters.

His face, finally revealed to her, was etched into her brain. The face she'd dreamed of for so many years, her fairytale prince, was a monster in disguise. She felt the hot tears leak from her eyes as she curled onto the bed. The adrenaline and fear that had carried her out of the forest and home began to ebb, and she drifted into a troubled sleep.

~*~

_Her mother's scent, soothing lavender, was so familiar. She knew where she was. Her mother's room, the shades open to let the light spill in for a few hours, dancing across the soft comforter and the bottles of pills that littered the nightstand and did little to ease her mother's pain. They were cuddled close as her mother began her favorite story._

"_Once upon a time, there lived a little girl named Bella Rosa. She was a beautiful girl, as sweet as she was smart, and she loved to play in the forest."_

"_It's pretty there," her seven-year old self interrupted. "I wish you could still walk in the forest, Mommy."_

"_Yes, it is," her mother agreed. "And I wish I could too."_

"_Tell me more."_

_Her mother drew a labored breath, then continued. "Bella Rosa would walk in the woods, gathering wood for the family's fire and plucking the wild roses she found there. None of the animals bothered her, instead, they would come to her, the deer to let her pet its soft nose, the tiny rabbit to have her stroke its fuzzy ears."_

"_Rabbits are soft," she said. _

"_They are," her mother agreed. "Bella Rosa lived with her mother and father in a small cottage beside the forest. Her father was a brave man, and her mother . . ." Her mother's voice cracked as she discreetly tried to wipe away the tear that threatened to fall. "Her mother wasn't well, but she loved her daughter so very, very much." _

_Her mother hurried on. "Bella Rosa grew strong and tall, but she still loved to walk in the forest each day. One day she came upon a bear. He was like no other bear she'd ever seen. He was large, with sharp claws and teeth, but his eyes were soft and golden and he had thick cinnamon fur. Bella Rosa wasn't afraid, for all the animals of the forest had only been kind to her, so she watched the bear as he approached her. But she was surprised when the bear stopped, and spoke to her in a man's voice."_

"_The bear talked?" she asked._

"_He did," her mother replied. "He asked Bella Rosa her name, and when she told him, he plucked one of the wild red roses she loved from a nearby bush and gave it to her, telling her she was as lovely as her namesake. And then the bear disappeared."_

"_Did she see him again?"_

"_Not right away. But that winter, when the snow was heavy on the ground, Bella Rosa heard a knocking on the door of the cottage late one night after her father and mother has gone to bed. She opened the door, and who did she find but the bear. The bear said to Bella Rosa, 'May I come in and warm myself by your fire?'"_

"_Did she let him?"_

"_She did. The bear came inside and curled by the fire that night, and every night that winter, talking with Bella Rosa late into the evening. And then one morning, the bear told her he would not return, for summer had come."_

"_He just went away?"_

_Her mother nodded. "For a little while. She was sad that he was gone, however, so Bella Rosa began to roam the forest again as the weather grew warmer and the roses bloomed, searching for her friend. And then one day, she came upon a man in the forest, digging furiously beneath a tree."_

"_What was he digging for?"_

"_Bella Rosa didn't know, and because she'd never been afraid of anyone in the forest before, she went up to the man, and asked him. When he heard her voice, he turned, startled to find a girl so deep in the forest. He saw that Bella Rosa had spotted what he'd been digging. Beneath the tree there were bags and bags of gold coins. As soon as the man saw that Bella Rosa has seen the treasure, he became even more enraged, and he raised his shovel as though to hit her."_

_She gasped. "Did he hurt her?"_

_Her mother gave a small laugh. "Patience, sweetheart. You can't rush the story. Just then, there was a great crackling and tearing through the forest, and the bear that had become Bella Rosa's friend burst into the clearing and tackled the man, knocking him far away with his giant paw. Bella Rosa gasped and ran to the bear to thank him. But before her eyes, the bear suddenly changed form, rising onto two legs and standing before her as a man. He was handsome, with a beautiful smile, but she knew he was still her friend, the bear, for he had the same golden eyes and cinnamon hair."_

"_Was he a prince?" she asked._

"_He was indeed. The man explained to Bella Rosa that he had been cursed for his selfishness to roam alone in the woods as an animal until he put someone else's life before his own. In saving Bella Rosa's life, he was freed. Bella Rosa was happy for the prince, but sad that she would never see him again when he returned to his father's castle."_

"_He left her?"_

_Her mother shook her head. "Bella Rosa turned to walk away, but the prince called her name. He walked to her, and held out a single, beautiful wild rose. He told her that he'd grown to love her during the long winter nights she'd opened her home to him, and asked her to marry him."_

"_And did she?"_

"_She did, because she had grown to love the prince as well, even before she realized he was a man. And so they lived happily ever after."_

"_Mommy, am I Bella Rosa?"_

_Her mother lifted a hand, wasted and wan from her illness, and carefully stroked her hair. _

"_You are, my dear. My beautiful rose."_

"_Will I have a prince someday? Like you have Daddy?"_

"_You will, Bella. You will. And when you find him, remember that the most beautiful part of your prince is what's in his heart."_

_~*~_

She woke with a start as the first light of morning crept into her room, the dream fresh in her mind.

_The most beautiful part of your prince is what's in his heart._

"Thank you, Mommy," she whispered, her doubts finally laid to rest, and her answer to his question finally certain. She only needed him to ask it again.

Her father was waiting for her at the breakfast table, his Santa hat in place, but his eyes were bloodshot and he looked as tired as she did. When breakfast was over, she asked for the car keys. He shook his head in resignation, but let her go.

She drove back along the highway, trying to find the spot where she'd emerged from the woods, hoping that she could find her way back. Hoping that there'd be something there to find. She slowed at the first mile marker she recalled seeing when she'd found the highway, pulled to the side of the road, and began to walk.

Nothing seemed the same for the longest time, and she experienced the same sense of disorientation she'd had when Edward had led her through the forest only the week before, the sense that she was almost going in circles despite her attempts to follow a straight path. Finally she heard the sound of running water. Elated, she followed the stream until she could see a glimpse of the grey stones ahead that marked the wall.

She moved faster as she drew closer, then stopped at the stream's edge, horrified at the sight of smoke rising before her. The house was still standing, but the roof had caved in, and the beautiful paned windows lay shattered and broken on the grass. She found the gate, her hands shaking as she swung it open to view the full extent of the destruction.

And then she saw him, standing by the greenhouse, carefully pulling a rose bush, broken and damaged, from the rubble. His head was bare, his arms uncovered, and as he stood slowly, turning his face up to the sky, she understood why he always covered himself. His skin caught the light, refracting it so that he almost appeared to glow in the sun.

"Edward!"

She saw him turn, his eyes lighting as he saw her running up the pathway.

"Bella, you're safe." He opened his arms as if to embrace her, then stopped, fists clenching as he stepped back.

She tried not to flinch at his rejection. "What happened, Edward?"

He glanced back at the house. "They're gone."

"Gone for now, or gone forever?" she asked.

He looked her in the eye. "Gone forever."

She nodded. "I'm glad. But your beautiful home, your roses . . ."

He shrugged. "I've rebuilt before. I can again."

There was a long moment of silence and then she stepped closer. "Today's my last day." He started to protest, and she shook her head. "So I think there's something you need to ask me."

He met her eyes and saw the determination there. "Bella, would you willingly stay with a monster?"

She reached down and plucked one of the red roses, curling it between their hands. "If his heart is yours? I will."

He lowered his head and she smiled as her prince kissed her for the very first time.

_The End_

~*~

A/N: I truly appreciate the reviews that you've been kind enough to leave for this story. Beauty and the Beast has always been one of my favorite fairy tales, and I enjoyed playing with those themes intertwined with the Twilight characters in this story. I'd especially like to thank Feisty Y. Beden for the prompt that gave me the idea for this story in the Twilight Gift Exchange, and again to SassenachWench and Project Team Beta for their help in making the story presentable. And finally I'd like to thank the wonderful mods who put together the Twilight Gift Exchange - If you haven't, I'd encourage you to check out the many, many fantastic complete stories you can find at the twi_exchange LJ.

I'm being shipped out of town for work-related matters this week, so my next bit of story rambling will start around the first of April. See you then.


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